


Lost and Still Around

by BiJane



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Genderqueer Character, Ghosts, Life Partners, Silas University Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 18:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2592548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiJane/pseuds/BiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Lola Perry died, she was six years old."<br/>I've seen a similar headcanon go around, that LaFontaine is really a ghost, and thought I'd see what would happen if I inverted it. LaFontaine living with the knowledge the most important person in their life has been dead for years.<br/>(Happier than it sounds, I swear).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost and Still Around

**Author's Note:**

> Had to write something for my latest obsession, and LaFerry are adorable.  
> First off, a note on pronouns: I've tried to use they/them when talking about LaF, but it gets confusing as 'they' is typically plural. I've used terms like 'they was' which sound ugly, but feel right because (as far as we know) LaFontaine is just one person, rather than a hive mind. If it's too unbearable, let me know and I'll change it: or copy/paste it into a word document, and find/replace every 'they was' into a 'they were'.  
> On the same gender note, the name in the tags was the only one recognized by the site.  
> Anyway, this was a fun idea to play with. I hope you enjoy!

When Lola Perry died, she was six years old.

LaFontaine blamed themself. They had been the one to throw the ball, and an irate Perry had wandered out to pick it up, scolding LaFontaine as ever for throwing it so far. The little yellow ball had rolled out over the road.

Distracted in her mumblings, Perry had walked out. She didn’t see the car. It didn’t even slow: didn’t stop, didn’t turn back. It just rushed on, anxious to forget.

And LaFontaine saw their friend struck, and saw her fall. They were on their knees, without realizing just when they’d gone down. Staring, wishing, dreading.

Perry…

They had cried, then: looked down, as if ignoring what had happened would make it go away. They hadn’t expected anything. They just couldn’t look. Couldn’t think.

“I hope that teaches you,” a voice, far more youthful yet far better at scolding than LaFontaine’s own mother, “Don’t throw out of the- Sue?”

The firmness faded to softness: kindness. LaFontaine looked up, to behold a face like an angel’s, curiously tilting her head. She offered the ball, and she frowned.

“Did you scrape your knee?” Perry said.

LaFontaine shook their head, mute. Fussing, Perry insisted on checking, pushing their jeans up to the knee, and dabbing though the skin was smooth.

“Be careful,” the young Perry said. “Are you ok?”

“Are you?” LaFontaine said, immediately.

Perry looked herself over, examining keenly as though she might have missed something.

“Yeah,” Perry said. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re the one that’s crying. Susan?”

LaFontaine might have convinced themself that nothing had happened. Indeed, they managed that much, the first time. But there were small things, too many small things.

No one reported finding a body: but Perry started to heal faster. She always popped up when LaFontaine needed her, always helped. There wasn’t much difference to before, but those small things, and the memory-

It was so shocking, so vivid, that LaFontaine recalled it in perfect clarity. They dreamed it nightly.

Lola. The car. The crash, the crack, the thump. Her angel’s face.

The internet was less in those days, but it was there: and there were books. Slowly, curiously, with their burgeoning scientific mind, LaFontaine researched ghosts.

Most sites were clearly nonsense. Many were more interested in scary stories than any facts: they could tell the difference. One or two gave the distinct impression of being serious though. Some were paranoid, some were delusional, some were coincidence.

And some described Perry exactly. Not Perry herself, of course, but events LaFontaine recognized as similar. Slowly, they were able to put together a picture.

They was eight when they first felt confident with their knowledge.

Some ghosts were the cliché: spirits come back to haunt an area, malevolent and hateful. Others were far more commonplace: people who simply didn’t realize that they had died. They were killed, then they got up, brushed themselves off, and wandered back like nothing had happened.

Just like Lola. If anyone would be able to put off death through sheer _no thank you_ -ness, it was her. Even at that age, LaFontaine knew it.

She aged, yes, and she got hurt, but it was all her imagining. She thought she was alive, so that was how it worked.

It was good news, save one thing. That kind of ghost was fragile: she had only to recall, she had only to be told, or to realize what had happened to her, and reality would reassert itself.

So, LaFontaine considered, it was probably good that they was the only witness. They would need to keep it a secret.

They didn’t like lying to Perry: but it was the best of all choices. Maybe it was selfish, they just couldn’t let go.

* * *

 

She was fourteen when she first kissed LaFontaine. LaF was talking about NASA: they was torn between pursuing biology and physics, and for that week they was obsessing over a recent space shuttle launch. Space stations: the kind of thing in science-fiction, and one was built, a human-wrought construct orbiting the earth.

When they had finished their excited rambling on the topic, of the notion of space, and travel, (and a brief tangent into how much they wanted a warp drive), Lola had smiled at them, and leant forward, and kissed them.

“What was that for?” LaFontaine said: chuckled. Perry pulled back, and smiled at them.

“It felt right,” Perry said. “And you were being cute.”

“Nuh-uh,” LaF shook their head, “I’m not _cute_.”

“You really are,” Perry said.

LaF shook their head again. “Nope. I’m a badass. I’m not cute.”

“Fine,” Perry said. “My cute little badass. Happy?”

LaFontaine made an expression that could have been called pouting, if they were a few years younger. Perry found herself smiling, and leant across for another kiss. This one LaFontaine returned.

They rather soon ended up stargazing. Hand-in-hand, shuffling closer together as the night turned cooler.

“You like space?” Perry said.

“Mm,” LaF said, “Hard not to, isn’t it?”

Silence, for a few seconds. They stared up, Orion looking down, and LaF tracing out various other constellations in her mind.

“What do you think about aliens?” Perry said.

LaFontaine did their best not to freeze.

They could have said a lot, in answer to that. It tied to their interest in biology: they liked to imagine how such creatures would look. The likelihood of life arising elsewhere, how hard it would be to cross the gulf of space…

They could have spent ages entertaining Perry. They did a very good spaceship impression. They would have been happy to talk about how firmly they believed aliens exist: and how most abduction stories were likely completely wrong.

But when they tried, they couldn’t. It felt wrong, somehow. Perry and the paranormal: it couldn’t work. One thing leading to another, maybe one day she’d be asking about ghosts. Wondering.

“Nah,” LaFontaine shook their head. “Nice thought, but they can’t be real.”

They hated it. They hated to lie, especially to Perry: but the more they did it, the more natural it felt, and the harder it became.

It set a pattern. Perry would idly ask about something, LaFontaine would shrug it off. And their heart broke a little more each time.

Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was wrong, maybe it was cruel. LaF couldn’t bring themself to deny that, but it felt just as wrong to say goodbye to Perry.

Perry was quite a skeptic, after just a year. That wasn’t a bad thing, not really: LaFontaine felt sure they would have been, if not for the car. If not for Perry.

Things between them managed to stay strong, and stay firm.

* * *

 

When time came to choose Universities, LaFontaine tended toward Silas. They had done research, and it had a certain… reputation. If there was any place on earth that they might be able to learn how to be honest to Perry, and not hurt her, it was there.

Laura never asked how they knew their way around the library quite so well, or how they managed to improvise a flamethrower quite so effectively. She didn’t know LaFontaine had spent solid days locked up in there, alternating between hiding and researching.

There was a whole department on ghosts, even if it was accessible only at night. And there was an answer there, a hope: it wasn’t the realization that the ghost was dead that killed them. It was the shock.

Ghosts were creatures of mind, clinging on solely because they refused to acknowledge what had happened. If the knowledge was forced upon them, the surprise made them release their grip. It was a problem if the information came too suddenly, and only then.

So LaFontaine changed tack. They began to hint, softly. No explicit statements, just more openness to the paranormal. Not that it was hard, with the alchemy club, and the occasional three-headed dog.

Still, it was hard to change. They did their best to encourage Laura and the others to not force anything on Perry: though they couldn’t say why, of course. _Just go with it, please. Don’t make me lose her._

Slowly, they tried to open Perry’s mind. It was hard to deny the supernatural, on the Silas campus: LaFontaine hoped that would count for something.

Gently, gently.

Nothing particularly major happened. If it had, it would all be going wrong. It was frustrating, certainly, to not know how successful they was being, but LaFontaine managed.

They couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow callous, manipulative. They had been used to that sensation for a while, however, lost to alternatives. What else could they do? If this was what it took to keep Perry safe, to keep her alive, then they would gladly do so. There would be time for openness, and for judgement, then.

They cared for Perry. First friendship, then this, even if had become strained since coming to Silas.

* * *

 

It was after Carmilla had been captured and restrained, that LaFontaine had their first opportunity to talk. And it wasn’t with anyone they’d expected.

They’d agreed to take shifts watching the vampire. It wasn’t safe to leave her alone for very long, not when they couldn’t be sure what she’d do, or if she had help, so they took turns. LaF was working on some of their coursework when Carmilla idly spoke.

“You know about her, don’t you?” Carmilla said.

“Huh?” LaFontaine looked up.

“The ghost-girl you’re joined at the hip with,” Carmilla said, “You’re pretty bad at keeping secrets.”

“Says you,” LaFontaine retorted, by instinct. Then: “You know?”

“Of course I know, keep up,” Carmilla said: sighed. “Evil minion of the undead here, remember? Key word: undead. Kinda know what I’m talking about, when it comes to that.”

“Don’t tell her,” LaFontaine said.

They stood, holding a pen tightly in their hand: not quite brandishing it like a stake, but seriously considering. If Perry heard-

“Relax,” Carmilla said. “If you think pissing off you lackwits even more is on my to-do list, you’re dumber than I thought.”

LaFontaine sat again, uncertainly.

“Promise me,” LaFontaine said, “Please don’t say anything to Perry. Or any of them, if she found out-”

“Then she’ll vanish in a puff of ectoplasm,” Carmilla said, “Bla-bla, she’s not the first ghost I’ve met, you know?”

“Promise me,” LaFontaine said, again. Carmilla chuckled.

“You trust my word?” she shrugged. “Fine, I promise not to breathe a word to Lola the friendly ghost. How’s that?”

There was an edge to Carmilla’s voice LaF wasn’t familiar with: some fondness, some regret. They didn’t pursue it. Chances are it’d just make the vampire clam up again.

LaFontaine relented, albeit with some reluctance. It felt wrong to do nothing, even if there was nothing they could do.

“There have been others?” LaFontaine said.

This much, however, she was familiar with. Questioning, getting answers: it felt rather scientific. While they had a plan, for what it was worth, more information never hurt.

“Ghosts?” Carmilla said, “Sure. Can tell you who a couple are on campus, if you really want. They tend not to have many people like you.”

“People like me?” LaFontaine said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Secret-keepers,” Carmilla said. “People who know. Tends not to go well. Guessing you haven’t had to worry too long.”

“Fourteen years,” LaFontaine said.

Carmilla seemed momentarily surprised by that. Rather quickly, however, she schooled her expression, doing a remarkable job at maintaining the appearance of detachment.

“It never ends well,” Carmilla said. “Never can. One partner senses the other’s keeping secrets, gets to wondering what they are, and you can’t keep quiet forever. Sooner or later they’ll figure out what you’re hiding, and it’ll be over.”

Some other, strange, wistfulness came over Carmilla’s tone then.

“You almost sound like you care,” LaFontaine said.

“As if,” Carmilla said. She chuckled, rather quickly: “Just didn’t want you to get your hopes up. It never works out.”

“It will, this time,” LaFontaine said.

“Sure,” a laugh.

“It will,” LaFontaine said again, far more firmly.

* * *

 

Somewhat surprisingly, Carmilla’s addition didn’t play on LaF’s mind. They were worries they’d grown used to. They had promised themselves almost as soon as they’d found out about ghosts, that Perry would live a good life, though.

Even so, LaF didn’t have as formal a plan as they’d have liked. They knew not to shock Perry with the news, and knew to idly hint, but how could they draw the line?

Sooner or later, Perry would have to realize that she’d died. LaFontaine’s role was to try and get her used to the idea of something so opposed to the normalcy she was fixated on: a fixation LaFontaine had been mostly responsible for.

Meanwhile, Perry was concerned with her usual duties at Silas. Apparently the Alchemy Club wanted to advertise on Perry’s and LaF’s Dons Disseminating series, leaving Perry to try and find some delicate way of refusing to summon something they called ‘The Great One, the Dark One, the Nameless One whose Realm is All and whose Wrath is Endless,’ (they could even pronounce the capital letters) live on air.

“Come on,” as ever, Perry was trying to pull LaFontaine out of bed. “It’s nearly lunch, we have a meeting at one.”

LaFontaine groaned, trying vainly to pull the sheets back around them.

“You promised,” Perry said, “You said you’d help with the alchemy club. Which means you need to get up.”

LaFontaine groaned again. Sighing, Perry gave up tugging on the sheets, wandering around the room to pull the curtains wide open. LaF pulled the sheets over their head, to hide their eyes.

“I’ll get up later,” LaFontaine said, voice muffled.

“You’ll just fall asleep again,” Perry said, “That’s what always happens. We talked about that in episode three, remember? Advice for new students: don’t have a lie in unless you really have time for it, else you’ll just go to class all groggy, and no one wants that.”

Grudgingly impressed, LaFontaine shifted, and pulled the sheets past their eyes. They blinked a little in the sunlight.

“How do you remember all that stuff?” LaFontaine said.

“It’s important,” Perry said. “You should remember it too, there’s useful information. Never go to the library after dark, kidnap people as little as possible, it’s all in the student advice handbooks.”

“I lost mine,” LaFontaine said.

Well, lost and incinerated when it tried to bite them were more or less the same thing. More paranormal things they didn’t want to force on Perry. Keep it slow, keep it gradual.

“I’ll send you a spare,” Perry said. “Later. Remember today? Alchemy Club meeting.”

“Oh. Right,” a grumble, “They wanted to end the world, or something, right?”

“Dreadfully inappropriate topic for a student PSA,” Perry said. “We need to try and get them to, uh, tone it down.”

“Or, y’know, not give air time to an apocalyptic cult,” LaFontaine said. Perry lightly nudged their side.

“Shh,” she said, scolding. “Everyone’s entitled to their beliefs.”

It was somewhere between endearing and frustrating. Chuckling and groaning, LaFontaine pulled themself out of bed, not at all self-conscious around Perry.

After a few minutes, they’d quickly showered, dried, and was hastily getting dressed. Perry sat primly, pointedly looking away like she hadn’t seen it all before.

“So, what are we planning to say?” LaFontaine said.

They glanced into their mirror, briefly brushing and combing their hair to neatness, before messing it up nicely with one hand.

“I think we should just remind them of the student guidelines,” Perry said, “No fear-mongering, no unsanctioned sacrifices, no forced conversion-”

“Yeah, think that last one’s more about species than worldview,” LaFontaine said.

Perry tilted her head. “As in?” she said, apparently genuinely mystified.

“Well,” LaFontaine said, and hesitated, “Well you know it was a full moon last night?”

“Mm,” Perry said, still puzzled.

A moment of silence. Perry was looking at them so innocently, it felt almost shameful to answer. That and, right now, this particular topic would likely only end in an argument.

“Never mind,” LaFontaine said: shook their head, sighing. “It’s not important.”

Fully dressed, they headed toward the door to their room, moving in front of Perry as they did so. She stood as they passed.

Something imperceptible changed in that moment, and LaFontaine shook their head.

“No,” they said, “Actually, it is important. You know Silas is an… odd place, right Perry?”

“Um,” Perry said. Her eyes went suddenly wide: “There are… unusual meteorological events, certainly. The weather balloon incident last week-”

“Not a weather balloon,” LaFontaine said, “But never mind. One of our best friends is crushing on a vampire, I’ve been attacked by flying books, and you’ve recommended a unicorn riding club.”

“They were horses,” Perry said, quickly. “A… rare breed of horses. Native to Silas.”

“With white fur and horns.”

“Exactly,” Perry said, nodding. Hesitated. “Horns.”

They bit back a sigh, too weary and far too guilty to be amused by Perry’s facial expressions. A moment of silence, and Perry regarded them, still sitting. She didn’t seem to know whether or not she should stand.

“Susan,” she began.

“LaFontaine,” they said, by instinct.

“Fine,” a dash of frustration, “LaFontaine.  Why do you keep insisting on making everything weird?”

“It’s already weird, Perr,” they said. “Nothing wrong with acknowledging that.”

Perry looked away. She didn’t seem able to meet LaFontaine’s eyes. It was hard for them not to wince at that.

“You’ve changed, since coming here,” Perry said.

_Because I could. Because I found out there were options, that I could be honest and you might survive. Because I don’t want to lose you_. There were so many answers LaF wished they could risk saying.

This was one thing they’d hoped wouldn’t happen. They were trying to help Perry with every fibre of their being; and everything they’d built with Perry was falling because of it.

They didn’t blame her, not really. It was their fault for their paranoia, and their decision to lie. If they’d only told the truth years ago, if they’d let Perry stay as she was, as she would be, this wouldn’t be happening.

Perry stood, in just the same instant that LaF moved to sit on the bed. There was a brief flicker of unsteadiness, where each paused mid-motion: but each completed their action. Now Perry stood up, just above the seated, quietly desperate LaFontaine.

“There’s weird stuff in the world,” LaFontaine said. “That’s all.”

_And I would love to tell you more, if only I could be certain it was safe._ This wasn’t the time for experimenting.

“You don’t have to run at it, every time,” Perry said. “Let it be Su- LaF.”

A moment. LaFontaine looked down, ashamed.

“Please,” Perry said, again.

There was a new edge to her voice. It might almost have been pleading: it certainly wasn’t the near-anger in her tone moments before.

It was a note of uncertainty, of unspoken desperation that LaFontaine had found themself become  painfully familiar with. Realizing that you needed to do something, to say something, and knowing that you just couldn’t. Hoping someone would just take your word for it.

LaFontaine looked up: forehead creased, lips parted absently. They didn’t realize.

“You know,” LaFontaine said, to Perry.

“I know?” Perry said, a little too quickly: “Know what? I know  a lot of things, that doesn’t mean-”

“The car,” LaFontaine said. “Fourteen years ago, when I threw the ball-”

“And I got it back,” Perry said. She blinked: “ _You_ know?”

“I saw my best friend get run over in front of me,” LaFontaine said. “Not something that’s easy to forget.”

“But you were always so skeptical,” Perry said, “I thought you’d forgotten, or suppressed, or whatever it is people do. I kept trying to broach it with you, but…”

“I did research,” LaFontaine said, “The shock of realizing, it’s meant to be… Well, not good.”

“I figured it out,” Perry said. “What shock? I was hardly going to leave you, was I?”

Rather incongruously, LaF found themself laughing. They lifted a hand to their forehead, knowing they’d have plenty of time to feel disappointed, to feel sad at what they’d missed out on over the past few years.

But, just then, there was only complete and unutterable relief. _I knew it could work out._

“So all the… normality?” LaFontaine said.

“I didn’t want to worry you,” Perry said. “You couldn’t remember, and I thought- and it’s not something I like to let define me.”

“Perr,” LaFontaine said. “Kinda a big deal. You’re a ghost.”

“Former Alive,” Perry sniffed. “Much nicer.”

LaFontaine chuckled again. Trust Perry to be more concerned with semantics than her deadness.

Perry sat down beside them, and after a moment, sidled closer until she had as much body contact as she could get. She raised an arm: looped it around LaFontaine’s neck, in a mix of intimacy and gladness. The end of secrets.

“Just… don’t mention it, k?” Perry said, softly.

“Huh?”

“To the others,” Perry said. “It’s weird.”

And she worried about that, even now. LaFontaine couldn’t suppress a chuckle: followed by a smile as Perry kissed up at the bottom of their neck, once.

“Sure,” LaF said, “Sure Perry.”

They lifted their own arm, resting it around Perry. She smiled, mumbling something indistinct and fond.

“Thanks S-” she paused. “So. LaFontaine, huh?”

“Yeah,” LaF said.

“I think I could get to like them,” Perry said. She looked up, and smiled.


End file.
